Chapter Text
It’s difficult to track the passage of time without the tides. If pressed Jason will admit the zoo has done its best but there’s only so much they can do about the inherent stagnancy of a tank. The sand on the bottom is soft, but heavy enough to stay fairly settled.
Jason shifts onto his back and wiggles his shoulder blades to get at his itch. He’s at the deepest part, towards the painted backdrop, so as to avoid most of the gawking crowd. Unlike Dick, who is performing summersaults for laughing babies, Jason hates being watched. He spends most of his days dozing. Only once the exhibits are closed will he join the rest of his family.
He could stay in the area behind the exhibit, left open for them at all times so they can enjoy a respite from the chaos, but if he spends too long they always start tests. Bruce says they just want to make sure he’s well, but Jason doesn’t quite believe that.
He doesn’t think Bruce believes it either.
A few flips of his tail and he reaches the surface to breathe. Sometimes he wishes he could hold his breath indefinitely. It sure would make it a lot easier to avoid the public.
“He’s so pretty.” A little girl gasps, pointing straight at him.
Jason inhales quickly, intending to escape back to the other tank, when Dick grabs hold of his arm.
“The little one likes you, Jason. Come let her see.” Dick says.
Jason’s opinion is irrelevant as he's pulled over to see the little girl.
She’s older than he’d guessed originally, maybe eight or nine. As he nears she looks like she gasps and clutches her chest before reaching just one palm to touch the glass.
Intrigued, Jason tilts his head and watches her. Most of the young children bounce and press themselves up against the glass to watch, but she sits there and stares back at him expectantly.
After a small hesitation, Jason presses his hand over the same spot. If the glass weren’t in the way they’d touch palms.
“Oh.” Her words aren’t audible through the thick glass but Jason can read lips. Something sad touches her expression that puzzles him.
“That’s Jason.” One of the helpful employees, a hated woman, steps up next to the girl. “You must be very special to get his attention. He doesn’t interact with guests much.”
With the introduction of one of his least favorite caretakers, and the absence of his brother who’s already flaring his fins for a group on the other side of the tank, Jason can feel his attention drifting. Another breath and then he can go back to his nap.
“He looks sad.”
Head above the water, Jason hears the little girl’s voice. She actually sounds concerned, and that’s enough for him to pay more attention to the conversation. It’s not like he has anything more interesting to do.
When the woman starts listing all of the things they do offer enrichment, Jason heaves out a heavier snort than usual. He doesn’t want any of the balls or puzzles they throw into the tank, he wants proper nesting materials and more hiding nooks and... maybe not freedom, but just... something.
He’s not sad, he’s not, he’s restless.
He’s... being watched.
Not in the usual way. It feels more serious, like the gaze of a hunter. It’s not a typical visitor; their eyes glazed over with wonder or exhaustion—depending on the age. It’s a man at the back, sitting on the bench. He’s got a notebook balanced on his lap, an artist then maybe. It would explain the intense gaze, but the hand motions look more like writing.
After taking in another breath, Jason dives back under the water and moves to get a closer look at the stranger. He jostles Tim out of the way, ignoring his brother’s protests as he drops whatever puzzle he’s working on now.
The man is continuing to stare directly at him, though it’s a little softer now that he sees Jason is looking back. After a minute, the man raises a hand and gives Jason a distinctly mer greeting.
It’s enough that Jason nearly chokes on water, something he hasn’t done since he was a calf. Wildly, he twists to look for his father with a sharp, “Bruce!”
Their pod leader is at his side in seconds. His hands search Jason’s body in silent question. There are few reasons that Jason would call for him like that. Fingers trace over lines of pale skin, puckered but healed, before Bruce calms.
Jason presses his shoulder back against Bruce’s in a silent promise that he’s not injured. He goes to point the man out and then pauses. The bench is empty.
“Jason?” Bruce prods.
The researchers had laughed when they heard recordings of Bruce speaking. They thought it was funny to hear—quote—such a deep squeak. Jason doesn’t know how they can think Mer sounds like squeaks. Short syllables are much more efficient than their long drawn out waste of air.
With a flick of his tail, he dismisses the question. “Never mind. I thought I saw something in the crowd.”
Bruce croons his concern, tracing his hands over the worst of the scars again. Then he tugs Jason up towards the surface, ever aware of Jason's more limited lung capacity.
That’s what hurts most about this captivity. If it weren’t for him, and his poorly healed injuries, his pod would be free.
After closing, they always head in. Their food is replenished and the researchers always want to examine all of them.
Bruce leads the way as always, but now with Damian clinging to his neck. It’s leftover habit from their early days in the aquarium—before they could understand English and the researcher’s intentions. If something were to lie in wait for them, Jason or Tim were to snatch the youngest calf and make a quick escape while Bruce and Dick fought. Now they know that there’s never anything more dangerous waiting for them than the thawed fish strips Damian turns his nose up at.
Jason tries to join his family at the feed bowls, half full with fish and lettuce, but a net stops him. There’s no description that can sufficiently explain the terror of being tangled and unable to surface for air. He thrashes and calls for his pod and their sharp nails to free him.
Bruce is the first to dash towards him, only to run into a net that separates the feeding station off from the rest of the tank. Valiantly, Bruce tries to slash through the plastic but there’s no use.
Dripping and defenseless, Jason is pulled from the water and dropped into a shallow tub. There’s not enough room for him to gain any sort of leverage against the heavy press of air around his body. He gasps for a few minutes while the caretakers bustle around him.
Then the man from the bench is peering down at him through glasses. He’s frowning deeply and reaches out towards Jason before turning to the others. It’s clear there’s no love lost between them. “You used a net on him?”
“He’s skittish and his pod is protective of him. There’s no other way.” One of the men snaps, carrying the machine they strapped to Jason’s face when he first arrived to the facilities
The new man, apparently another researcher, looks like he’s going to start a fight over it but then he sighs and flips open an orange folder instead. Jason can’t read English, but he can see an image of himself pinned to one of the papers. The man scans the papers, glances at Jason, scans the papers again, and sets the folder down.
Jason’s never seen a man look so defeated.
“You have him marked as an alpha.” The man says as pushes his glasses up so he can rub at his eyes.
Offended, Jason flares his fins. He’s the perfect example of an omega, thank you. The subtle red splotches of color across his gray tail quite clearly accentuate his larger size and shorter frills. Even the swirls of color leading a v shape down his abdomen emphasize the presence of his womb.
The man gives Jason an apologetic look, as though he sympathizes, and then turns to the aquarium’s caretakers. “He’s an omega.”
The woman Jason despises makes a face and then gestures toward the pool. “No. Dick’s the omega. Look how small he is in comparison.”
Suddenly Jason finds it in himself to forgive them. They think Dick’s the omega. These people aren’t just blind, they’re stupid. Dick is the showiest alpha Jason’s ever met.
They run through the tests quickly. Jason’s pretty sure it’s to test his breathing or something. Whatever they’re testing, the results aren’t good judging by the crease across the new researcher’s face.
One of the others called him Kent, so perhaps that’s his name. It is hard to tell with humans sometimes. They never seem to have common sense.
That he was an alpha! His tail lashes at the very idea.
“Will you take him?” The hated woman asks. “If it weren’t for his lungs, they’d all be ready to go back to the wild, but he can’t be released and with the new laws prohibiting the separation of pods...” she shrugs, “Our aquarium is one of the best for short term rehabilitation, but we don’t have the facilities for long term care.”
“You were certainly right when you said they could benefit from our help.” The man, Kent, looks over his glasses at her. It’s a very condescending expression.
Jason wants to learn it. It seems like the sort of thing he could wield against Tim.
The man sighs again. He seems very weary. “Arthur is an hour out with the truck. I’d like to see all of your files on them in the meantime so we can work out a care plan.”
The hated woman nods and leaves Jason with Kent and a few men who hold the net.
“Let’s get you back into the water.” Kent says after a long pause. He cups the water from the shallow tub in his hands and wets the places Jason wasn’t able to reach with his movement so limited.
The touch is soft and warm; Jason allows it only out of curiosity. None of the caretakers have ever touched him without protective gear.
Remembering earlier, Jason lifts his hand in greeting.
Kent smiles, and the wrinkles look nice on his face. He raises his hand again, though now that they’re closer together Jason can see that the greeting has the tilt of an accent. Then Kent lowers his hand back to his side. “I’m Clark. It’s nice to meet you.”
Jason tilts his head and sings a greeting in return, but it seems this Clark only knows Mer gestures. There’s no true comprehension on his features.
“Water.” Jason signs, hoping that Clark will understand that much.
It seems he does. He moves to touch Jason again, before pausing. “If you promise not to thrash, I can carry you to the pool without a net.”
Jason nods. He’s seen many humans use this gesture for agreement. Being carried by such a pitiful creature is beneath him, but Jason is desperate to avoid the net again. He hates the feeling of drowning. The water is his home, he doesn’t want to fear it.
“Alright then.” Clark rolls up the arms of his long white over-skin. He hefts Jason up in his arms and it’s not a pleasant feeling. The skins that Clark wears are scratchy and dry. “Don’t move too much or I might drop you. I can’t imagine that concrete burns will feel good on your soft scales.”
“Mr. Kent!” One of the net holders protests.
Jason bares his teeth at the man even as he’s forced to wrap one arm around Clark for stability.
Clark grunts and shakes his head. “Stay back, stay back. He’s fine so long as you don’t trap him in a net. Didn't you say he was found tangled in one?”
“It’s protocol.” The man insists, but he’s moved away far enough that Jason turns his attention to the tank.
The net there is still up, but not for long at the rate his pod is going. Bruce alternates between pacing the length of the tank and rejoining the others in their attempts to shred the plastic cording.
Clark stops a few steps away from the tank and clears his throat to get Jason’s attention. “We will be taking you away from here and getting you somewhere that you can feel safer. It will be easiest if you go easy. Do you understand?”
Jason nods, because he does understand even if he’s not sure he agrees, and gives the lightest of kicks with his tail.
It gets Clark moving again. He steers Jason down at the very edge of the water. It’s then that he seems to realize the net still up. Twisting to glare at the others, he says, “Get that net down. We’ll be transporting them soon. The last thing we need is for them to be territorial and protective.”
There’s more to the speech, but Jason doesn’t hear it. He pushes off the edge and hits the water with a pleasant splash. Seconds later he’s surrounded by his pod members.
Bruce runs his fingers over the entirety of Jason, making sure he’s not injured anywhere. Alfred pushes close, joining the examination at a less frantic pace.
Jason shakes them off. “I’m fine. They just wanted to do the lung thing, I think.”
“I don’t like it.” Bruce huffs, nudging Jason back up to the surface to breath, even though Jason was just at the surface moments before.
He obliges but only because he’s going to need the extra oxygen to protest being treated like a calf. While taking as large a breath as possible, Jason spots the hated woman. Baring his teeth, he fans out his fins and puffs up in a show of deliberate aggression.
The others all copy him, with the exception of Alfred who moves to shield Damian.
Then Tim follows his gaze and sighs. He and the others relax. “What did she do now, Jason?”
The upper half of Tim’s tail and body streaks are still muddy calf colors—yellow, red, and green—but they’re slowly blending out into a pale red with spots and stripes of translucent skin. He’ll be a beautiful alpha, once he’s finished growing into his limbs and tail.
That woman probably thinks Tim is an omega too.
Jason forces himself to not spread out his fins again in another irritable display. He’s an adult, nearly. So what if some stupid human can’t see his appeal, out in the open waters he was a very desirable specimen. Bruce and Dick have earned many scars from fighting off his would be suitors.
His displeasure must still show through because Dick is reaching out comb through his curls soothingly. “Is everything alright, little fin?”
“She thinks I’m an alpha.” Jason crosses his arms with a pout.
It causes his face to flush red when the other calves laugh at him. Even Bruce and Alfred appear to be hiding smiles.
In retaliation, Jason smacks his tail against Dick’s. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. She thinks you’re an omega.”
The others lose it but Dick freezes mid laugh in horror to look his own body over. “No.”
“Mmhm. She does. Insisted on it, even, after she got corrected by the new guy with glasses.” Jason says. It’s wicked and vindictive, but pleasure shoots up his spine at the defensive rustle of Dick’s fins.
Then his brother flares them out and puffs up in what can only be alpha dominance. He begins a challenger’s dance in her direction, but Jason is pretty sure nothing will make the hated woman understand how stupid she is.
“You said there is a new man.” Bruce glances up at the surface. He looks deeply unhappy about this development.
Jason doesn’t blame him, even though so far the man seems the only sensible one. “He speaks Mer. Kind of.”
“What did he say?” Bruce bristles, but unlike with an alpha’s challenge there’s a true threat of death rather than just maiming. No one would ever dream to touch a brooding omega’s calves unless they were certain they could kill said omega. That fact, plus the use of nets—even just being trapped in this pool—must have Bruce on edge.
Jason’s on edge and he’s not even brooding. He shrugs and tries to copy the weird dialect Clark had used. Bruce might have seen it before, or maybe Alfred. “And he understood the sign for water.”
“That’s Atlantan.” Bruce’s lips curl in slight disgust, but now he seems thoughtful as he nudges Jason back up to the surface.
Of course Jason swats at him, he has dignity thank you, but... but it’s also nice. He’s not really a calf anymore, only has a few stripes of algae green running up his ribs, but the extra attention from his brooder is nice.
As the youngest, Damian gets most of Bruce’s attention. Rightfully so. Tim is the next, but Jason still gets his moments with Bruce here and there. Even Dick still gets groomed daily and his bright blue-black gradient lost any hint of camouflage hundreds of high tides ago. Since Bruce himself still gets groomed by Alfred none of Dick’s half hearted protests have ever worked.
Except when Jason was still new to the pod, but he doesn’t like thinking of those days. He was still scared Bruce would turn on him then, and Dick was already bristling a challenge every time their eyes accidentally met. It wasn’t until he got trapped in a coral bed overnight that Dick finally accepted him.
Bruce cradles him close to his chest and hums some of Jason’s life-song quietly. Jason rests his head against Bruce’s neck and focuses on breathing deep while he doesn’t need to work to keep himself surfaced. It’s what they would have done if they still lived out on the coast.
It’s what they had done when Damian had been injured by one of his sire’s pod and it wasn’t certain the calf would make it.
They don’t notice Clark is watching them until Dick charges forward with a trilled challenge.